When Two Worlds Collide
by xMusicallyAd3ptx
Summary: What happens when the men of Easy Company are sent into the future by a mysterious force as they flew over Normandy? Furthermore, what happens when they parachute onto the magical grounds of Hogwarts unbeknownst?
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: This is my attempt at a Band of Brothers/Harry Potter story. The idea randomly came to me as I was reading the book and heard the words "Harry Potter". This is based off both the HBO miniseries and the book, but I have made significant alterations to both, such as the fact that some characters who ere supposed to die will not, etc. This will jump right into the action, so be prepared.**_

_**THIS HAS BEEN UPDATED FROM THE ORIGINAL. REFER TO THE AUTHOR'S NOTE IN CHAPTER TWO.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of either of these creations. This is purely fictional. I mean no disrespect to the legitimate members of Easy Company.**_

_..:0:.._

_Ka-chuck. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_

That eerie red light that carried the message of imminent death sprang to life. It was duly noted by the Jumpmaster. The time had come.

Lieutenant Richard Winters, eyes wide but countenance firmly stoic, shouted over the din of the exploding flak and the roar of the engine.

"Stand up and hook up!"

The other occupants of the plane did so, hooking themselves to the stick. They were anxious, nearly overtly so; the helmets on some of the men shook as their bodies trembled. Prayers were uttered, and men aloud spoke final goodbyes to their families and loved ones.

_BOOM!_

The plane rattled as flak detonated nearby.

"Sound off for equipment check!" Winters cried.

"Twelve okay! Eleven okay! Ten okay! Nine okay!" each man in turn exclaimed, all the way up the line to the foremost of the line.

"One okay!"

Lieutenant Winters' C-47 shook and shuddered in the wake of the incoming fire of the anti-aircraft guns situated on the ground of Normandy below. Though the men aboard quaked as well, a fierce resolve had settled over their collective hearts. And although the fear was still existent, the men aboard knew what had to be done. They must complete the jump. They must defeat Hitler. For America. For family. For freedom.

Winters steeled himself.

"Get ready, boys!"

_..:0:.._

Meanwhile, in a separate C-47 positioned a stone's throw away in the same airspace, the red light went on as well. Sergeant Carwood Lipton screamed back to the troops sitting on the plane's transportation seats.

"Up! Everyone get up and hook in!"

Sweat broke across Lipton's brow: was he truly prepared for this? Lieutenant Schmitz was supposed to be Jumpmaster, not himself. Doubt settled into his mind about his own abilities. He knew not of what was to come;

But there was one thing that was certain.

_Fate may have a cruel hand_ _when dealing with Carwood Lipton,_ he thought_, but not so with my men; they will be kept alive._

_Ka-chuck. BOOM. BOOM._

_And so it begins._

_..:0:.._

Lieutenant Harry Welsh gazed nervously at the empty red light.

_Where is it? The flak's already started, so where's the light?_

He looked to the rear, and discovered all of his men observing the empty light as well. Luz was staring at the metal flooring of the plane, his humor having dissipated in the face of the looming peril. A cigarette slid from its position between his lips and fell descendant to the floor. The plane jerked, and it rolled out the open door. He didn't notice.

The light suddenly began to emit its red glow.

"Up, boys! Let's go! Hook up!"

He turned back to the light. Nothing. It had been destroyed by a piece of flak.

"Shit!" he yelled. He must act, and swiftly. He decided to abandon the equipment check, and the get the hell out of there.

"GO! GO! GO-

But he could not finish his command, for the plane was abruptly hit by a massive force. It rolled over in the air, throwing the men it contained about the inside chamber. Welsh was tossed violently against the steel wall behind him.

In a state of near-unconsciousness, he rose unsteadily to his feet, and managed to scream to his men,

"GET UP! WE STILL GOTTA JUMP!"

_..:0:.._

The Great Hall of Hogwarts, usually a sanctuary of the vibrant effects of life, was unusually quiet, and a sense of trepidation hung in the air. The Golden Trio, as they were often referred to as, had arrived only but a few hours earlier from the secret passage at Hogsmeade, bringing along with them the collective remnants of the Order of the Phoenix. The threat that was Voldemort fell like an ugly shadow over them all, for the peril of the undoubtedly coming battle was at hand. McGonagall stood with Shacklebolt at the helm of the Hall.

"Harry… Harry… HARRY."

Harry Potter was abruptly extricated from his thoughts by a certain Hermione Granger, who wore a look of concern upon her visage. He gazed at her expectantly.

"Harry, are you feeling alright? You haven't slept in day."

He sighed, though he knew she was right. Exhaustion was not a fit enough word for the state Harry James Potter was currently in. His countenance was a pure illustration of it. Bags hung limply under his eyes, his skin held a sallow color to it, his emerald orbs were crimson bloodshot.

"Bloody hell, Hermione. I'll be fine." Harry snapped. He instantly regretted it as Hermione's expression became that of one taken aback. "I'm sorry; it's just all this stress of the Battle on my shoulders. Lord, Voldemort's army hasn't even assembled outside the gates and I'm already feeling as if we've lost."

Ron looked up from the meager portions of a meal he was staring at.

"Hey, Harry, c'mon. Don't talk like that. You very bloody well know we have a shot at this."

Harry's eyes filled with a modicum of confidence.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right Ron. We do have a chance. And I'm gonna' spend every last ounce of my spirit on killing that nose-less bugger."

_Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv!_

From all sides a roaring sound began to crash down upon the ears of those in the Great Hall. It was nearly like a buzzing that had been amplified to enormous proportions; like an immense swarm of massive bees that was passing overhead. The Hall, which had been nearly silent, went completely so. The staff rose to their feet as one. More than one piece of silverware was dropped unheedingly to the stone floor.

A bellow sounded from the Slytherin table.

"What the bloody hell is that noise?"

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron, swallowed, and whispered fearfully:

"I know that sound. It's what's produced from the engines of those metal, Muggle-made monsters: airplanes."

_..:0:.._

Four C-47's, all holding men of Easy Company, were each hit by a massive, unknown force as they flew over Normandy. The planes had rolled over and the men aboard sullied and tossed about the metal interior. The pilots, who had been thrown about equivalent to the men, had regained control of their respective crafts in time and found themselves flying through a large cloud pocket.

In reality, they had been transported nearly sixty years into the future; April 26th, 1998. Instead of participating in one of the largest militaristic operations the world has ever known, they had been transferred from the skies above Normandy, to the sky above Hogwarts, in England.

They were perplexed, but figured it must have been a sudden bout of extreme turbulence that had done it. The flak had stopped, confusing them further. They assumed the turbulence had blown them very far off course. Nonetheless, the jump had to be completed, for they would not have an ample quantity of fuel to make it to a runway carrying the men.

The green light was flipped on for all four airplanes.

_..:0:.._

Green light bathed the inside of Winters', Lipton's, Welsh's, and Headquarters' C-47s. Each Jumpmaster proceeded to give that final command.

"OUT! OUT! OUT!"

The men plunged into the black night.

_..:0:.._

"Everyone stay down, if you will!"

Shacklebolt stood like a statue at the helm of the Great Hall. With a flick of his wand, the massive double doors of the Hall were thrown shut.

McGonagall stood beside him. Even the valiant Transfiguration Professor's voice shook with trepidation.

"What is happening, Kingsley?"

He turned his firm visage to her. Frightened chocolate eyes met her own.

"I do not know, Minerva. Friendly or not, however, we must be prepared to deal with whatever it is."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Message from the Author: Hello readers, just a quick informative update. I will be rewriting the first chapter, and with that altering a few key aspects of the story; stay tuned for future updates as well.**_

_**If this story does not receive much feedback, it will be discontinued. **_

_**Thanks. Remember to review.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of either of these creations. This is purely fictional. I mean no disrespect to the legitimate members of Easy Company.**_

_..:0:.._

"_The world is on my side _

_I have no reason to run _

_So will someone come and carry me home tonight._

_The angels never arrived _

_but I can hear the choir_

_so will someone come and carry me home."_

_-We Are Young -Fun._

_..:0:.._

Lieutenant Richard Winters leapt from the open door and into the night. Ripcord separated from the stick and his chute was liberated from the bond of its pack. The opening jerk was tremendous, causing his leg bag to instantaneously come loose and fall from his leg, hurtling downwards and colliding with-

_What in all hell…_

There, shooting upwards into the night sky, was a massive castle built of grey stone. It had several massive spires and turrets, and, more interestingly, seemed to be inhabited. Situated behind the castle was what looked to be a football stadium, but it was hard to fully distinguish in the dark. The bastion itself seemed to be Gothic in architecture, but he did not hold that belief for he knew very little of the style of buildings.

_Woo-wee. Looks like the Krauts have got themselves a castle._

This thought was promptly replaced by another.

_Dear God, we weren't trained to siege a castle._

His mind raced to find a substantial method to assaulting and securing the castle, if in fact it was filled with Germans. Militaristic maneuvers flew unsystematically about his mind, yet he could not secure a logical and fool-proof one. He needed to rendezvous with Headquarters and formulate an infallible plot to take the castle. And, he decided, it was compulsory to find Welsh, Lipton and Meehan and assess their situation.

As he floated descendant toward a neatly manicured lawn of green grass, he gazed about the air around him. He spotted Luz and Liebgott, floating relatively close by, both wearing looks of extreme incredulity. Winters couldn't help but laugh at their countenances, though he himself was tremendously shocked.

_Thud._

Winters hit the ground with a surprising softness, no doubt due to the well-kept lawn. Gazing quickly around the area, he gauged his circumstances. No leg bag. No gun. No defense against Krauts.

Shit.

On the ground, the dark was overwhelming. Winters could barely perceive the outline of his hand in front of his own face. As his eyes gradually adjusted to the gloom, he could make out a colossal Forest off to his right, as well as an equally vast lake some distance away.

A thump sounded just behind him. Winters swiveled around, and found Luz struggling in the webbing of his chute, wrapped up like a bug in the webbed machination of the spider. When the Private spotted Winters, he let out a jubilant cry.

"Well hey-oh, sir! My own chute got me quicker than the god-damn Jerries!"

Winter's smiled, but contradictorily to his expression his voice was harsh when he spoke.

"Keep your voice down, Luz!"

His speech unstiffened.

"Listen, from what I gather, the Krauts in that castle don't know we're here yet, so we must remain quiet. Here, I'll cut you out."

Winters withdrew a long knife from his boot and began to cut away the webbing. After this had been completed, they checked one another over and subsequently formed a plan. Winters possessed a .45 pistol he had overlooked when he had checked over his equipment, and Luz had his rifle, though he had lost his radio in the jump.

"Lieutenant Welsh's gonna have my balls for that, sir."

"Well, Luz, if you were in my platoon, I'd tell you that you were a rifleman first, and a radioman second."

"Yeah, tell that to Welsh, sir."

Winters chuckled. But after a moment, the levity disappeared from his face as the gravity of their situation regained its place upon his shoulders. He pulled a map torn at the edges from his pocket.

"Well, George, from what I've gathered, we're most likely at least fifty miles from the DZ in the Norman countryside, so this is useless. That turbulence must've done it." Winters said exasperatedly, wadding the map up into a ball and tossing it haphazardly behind him.

"Sounds about right to me, Lieutenant. Castle's kinda spooky, isn't it?"

"Yeah it is, Luz. Let's just hope we don't have to bother with it."

They made their way into the night, silently treading upon the grass and warily observing the blackened surroundings. It was unsettlingly silent; the only sounds the night produced were the irritating chirping of crickets and the rustling of the slight breeze passing through the grass. Winters retrieved his clicker from his left breast pocket and held it at the ready.

"Help!" someone shouted. "For Christ's sakes, someone help!"

The vociferation had originated from somewhere forward and to the left of the men, a southern Philadelphia drawl with a sharp under-bite.

"Christ, sir, I recognize that voice!" whispered Luz animatedly. "That's Bill Guarnere! Son of a bitch, ol' Gono made it!"

Winters and Luz discovered, after following a forthwith stream of expletives to is source, Bill Guarnere, dangling from the side of a decrepit wooden hut. His parachute was entangled around the chimney, firmly constraining Bill in his hanging position. Struggling and cursing, Bill flailed his arm and sent his rifle, which had been resting precariously on the edge of the roof above him, careening to the ground.

"Mother-

It was then he noticed his two fellow Easy Company comrades making their way to the hut.

"Thank Christ!" he cried mellifluously. "I've never been so happy in my god-damned life to see you, Lieutenant. And you're not too bad either, Luz."

"I'm fucking honored, Gono," stated Luz sardonically with a wide grin upon his face. Winters chuckled.

"That about sums up how I feel, Sergeant."

Somewhere off to the right of their position in the massive forest, a machine gun erupted into fire.

"Shit!" exclaimed Luz and Guarnere in unison.

"Get down!" ordered Winters, pushing Luz down by the helmet and dropping into a prone position. "Guarnere hang still!"

The machine gun let off several additional bursts, and then abruptly fell silent. Quietness overcame the night. The night air felt almost comatose. The quietude lasted for several entailing seconds, before an eerie scream shattered the tranquility. It was otherworldly; a sheer demonic-like shriek that caused the men to cover their ears and contort their faces in aggravation. Winters could not distinguish whether the sound was of a wounded man or, well, something else. An animal perhaps. The screech became increasingly cacophonous as it rose in pitch higher and higher until it sharply sojourned and died away.

Guarnere, a man tougher than steel, was thoroughly terrified.

"Holy shit!" he yelped. "Get me the hell down from here!"

"Shut up, Bill!" demanded Luz in a punitive whisper. "Ya' gonna get us killed by whatever the fuck that was!" His coffee eyes were as wide as saucers.

Winters was horrified, yet the fear did not exhibit itself in his outward demeanor.

"Ready your weapon, Luz," Winters commanded, his voice stalwart. "I'm getting the Sergeant down."

Luz nodded almost imperceptibly, slowly raising his M-1 and staring wide-eyed into the blackness. Winters slowly approached the hut, searching for a route by which he could scale the wall and get on to the roof. He noticed a window ledge offering perfect support and access to the roof. The Lieutenant climbed atop a barrel just below the window and maneuvered onto the ledge of the window, reaching up to grasp the siding of the roof-

_BARK!_

Winters froze. His blood ran cold within his veins and he felt the hair upon his neck begin to rise. Carefully, he peered into the window before him and found a massive brown hound with blood-red eyes gazing back at him. Subtly, Winters turned his head to Luz.

"Luz!"

George, still wide-eyed, transferred his attention to Winters.

"There's a huge dog in here! I can't tell if it's friendly or not, but if it gets out of the hut don't hesitate to put a bullet in it if it makes a move."

Luz's eyes grew broader, and he shifted his rifle from its position aimed into the darkness to the door of the hut. Winters judiciously lifted himself onto the roof.

Guarnere let out an exhalation of gratitude. "I don't care if you're a Quaker, sir; you're the best Lieutenant in this god-damned division."

"You mean that, Bill?"

"Every word, sir."

Winters beamed in the darkness. "You're not too bad either, Sergeant," he said, echoing Bill's words from earlier. "Now let's get the hell off this hut."

Winters withdrew the blade he had used to cut Luz free and began to cut away at the Sergeants parachute bonds. He chuckled. "Seems like I'm cutting a lot of people out 'chutes tonight."

Guarnere looked at him with amusement.

"Is that so, sir?"

"Yeah, Luz over here was wrapped up like a baby before he could even say 'Hi-ho Silver'."

"Now is _that _so, Luz?" Guarnere ridiculed. "Least I got caught by something and not my own damn body."

"Shut that mouth, Guarnere; Jesus, we shoulda' left him for the Krauts, Lieutenant." Luz muttered.

"Nah we couldn't have left Guarnere, Luz. Who else would be our ray of sunshine?" Winters deadpanned. Luz broke out laughing, and the men could feel the tension easing from the air. With a final slash of Winters' knife, Guarnere fell to the earth.

"Oh thank God!" he exclaimed. "I love the god-damned ground!"

"Yeah well, not even the dirt will ever love you back, Guarnere."

"Shut up, Luz."


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: Thank you for those who have been reading and adding the story to their alerts, I very much appreciate it. Please, please review. I do not mean to plead, but I have not had a single reviewer so far and its a bit disheartening. Anyways, this chapter shall reveal what that horrible scream was._**

**_CHAPTER 1 has been updated, please re-read to catch up on the updates._**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of either of these creations. This is purely fictional. I mean no disrespect to the legitimate members of Easy Company.**_

_"So, if you're tired of the same old story, oh, baby, turn some pages  
I will be here when you are ready to roll with the changes, baby  
Roll with the changes." _

_-Roll With the Changes- REO Speedwagon_

_..:0:.._

Whilst Winters and Luz had discovered Guarnere, the hazel eyes of Joseph Liebgott bore fruitlessly into the obscurity of the immense forest he had landed in. Where the hell was he? And furthermore, why was there a castle in the Norman countryside? By God, he would receive some answers when he rendezvoused with the rest of Easy.

The trees surrounding him formed grotesque shapes in the dull luminosity of the moon. For a moment, Liebgott thought he noticed indistinct shapes moving about in the vagueness of the gloom. Terror seized him, but, because of his intense mental and physical training, he coerced his mind to calm itself. He assumed it was merely the tension of the night playing ruses upon his psyche.

"Get a grip, Joe," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

To detach his mind from the enormous strain, he inspected his equipment. His leg bag had fortuitously survived the drop, so he possessed his machine gun, bipod, and ammo. Unfortunately, he had no assistant for the weapon, and if the enemy attacked, he was alone in operation of the heavy, steel machinery. Hendrix. He needed Hendrix. Or Plesha. Retrieving the Browning .50 Caliber Automatic Rifle from the bag, he transferred the rest of its holdings into his main pack. He raised his fist to his helmet and rapped his fist upon it three times. Good luck.

Slowly and fastidiously, he began stepping backwards, head swiveling about in all directions. A flash of white appeared at the bottom of his vision. He frantically looked down. It was his hands; they were alabaster; he had been gripping the machine gun so forcefully the blood had run from his fingers, rendering them plainly visible in the darkness. Tautness eased from his muscles and he chuckled, starting to tread rearwards again.

"You gotta' stop scaring yourself, Joe, or-,"

Suddenly, his felt himself lose balance and plummet backwards, hitting the earth with an eerily echoing thud.

"Shit!" he cried, scrambling to his feet and wildly rotating. Panic struck him hard and fast; his wits were being stressed nearer and nearer to their limits. Sweat breached his pores and ran down his face, blinding him and stinging his eyes.

And that's when he heard the telltale sound that had been drilled into him since the before the jump.

_Click-clack._

Anxiety rushed to his skull and the sensation of utter dread filled his stomach. He had misplaced his cricket-clacker whilst back at base. With no remaining option, he yelled out:

"Don't shoot! It's Liebgott!"

"Jesus, Lieb'! It's me: Christenson! Where the hell is your cricket?"

Relief poured over Liebgott like a sweet sun-shower.

"I lost it."

Christenson scowled.

"You still got your gun?" Liebgott inquired.

"No. I lost it, along with my entire leg bag, during the jump," replied Christenson sullenly.

Liebgott smirked.

"Alright, good. Then you can be my assistant on 'ol Browny here," drawled the Jew of German descent, patting the side of the machine gun on which was scrawled the word 'Browny'.

"Yeah, whatever," muttered Christenson.

"Then let's get moving; this place gives me the god-damned creeps."

And so Liebgott and Christenson started off in an arbitrarily-selected direction. Liebgott reached into his breast pocket and retrieved a pack of Lucky Strikes.

"Smoke?" he offered, motioning the pack towards Christenson.

He looked at it, and then shook his head.

"Oh, well. More for me then," stated Liebgott, placing a standard-rolled cigarette between his lips and lighting it. He drew in, and released the smoke through his nostrils. The night was oddly quiescent, and both men felt the tension return to the air. They continued along for an inordinate amount of time, before Christenson vexingly inquired:

"Do you happen to know where we are?"

Liebgott turned his head and peered at Christenson, eyes squinted in exasperation.

"Does it look like I know where the hell we are?" he hissed.

"Geez, Lieb, I was just asking. Don't need to get so angry over it."

"You know what Christenson, next time you decide to ask me some moronic question like that, why don't you-,"

He froze. The cigarette fell from his now-ajar lips.

"Joe?" queried Christenson, still looking at him.

"Don't move Burt. Okay, easy now, slowly turn around. Don't make any quick movements."

Christenson complied, and the sight that met his eyes caused his heart to momentarily stop pulsing. It was a beast of a creature, half-horse and half-man. The trunk of the entity was that of an equestrian, and its upper body was human. It did not move, but simply observed the men, gazing at them with eyes of turquoise that shone in the moonlight.

"Holy sh-," Christenson began.

Just behind him, Liebgott opened fire with his machine gun. Christenson dove sharply to the right as the bullets whizzed past him and indubitably at the strange creature. In horror, he looked up to see a barrage of bullets laid waste to the creature, which dropped to the ground instantly. Liebgott fired two more bursts into its prostrate form, before halting.

For a minute neither man moved.

Then the creature began to emit that horrible scream.

_..:0:.._


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review._**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of Harry Potter nor the Band of Brothers miniseries. This is purely fictional. I mean no disrespect to the legitimate members of Easy Company. I give them nothing but my utmost admiration.**_

_..:0:.._

"_In with the outro and out with the old,  
preparing for failure, from what we've been told.  
In with the outro and out with the old  
with nothing to offer, so nothings been sold.  
In with the outro and out with the old  
forgive me and give me  
one more chance to fold.  
In with the outro and out with the old  
there's nothing to lose when there's nothing to hold.  
We'll be together in the morning."_

_-"Career Day"- The Format_

_..:0:.._

Lieutenant Buck Compton crept silently along the periphery of the Great Forest. He had seen the castle on his descent to the ground, and just as the rest of the men, was perplexed and frightened equally. He figured it would have to be assaulted and taken, thus bringing about the loss of young, unblemished lives.

Damn this war.

A wide lake was situated about fifty yards to his left; the scene uncannily reminded him of a summer camp he had attended in his youth. But here, there were no smiling, carefree adolescents, simply the silence of a night that beheld the cold, hand of Death upon the air. Buck might have described it as serene, if the looming risk of wound or casualty did not linger about the nocturnal panorama.

The moon's dull, waxy reflection lay bare upon the surface of the still waters. Buck thought it appeared sullen, as if the great lunar globe was aware of the inevitable demise and suffering the night would surely bring. Or maybe it was just the internal whisperings of his soul. Thousands of stars shimmered like city lights in the water. Buck wistfully sighed.

_Thump_.

The sound had come from behind his position; a dull, minute sound that only a diminutive object could make.

Buck presumed it was a grenade.

He dove onto the solid earth.

Covering his head with both arms, he anxiously waited on the cool grass for the unavoidable explosion of the grenade.

_1, _he counted. _2. 3. 4. 5._

_6?_

The anticipated detonation had not come. A dud, possibly?

Arms still protectively raised, Buck elevated his head minutely to peer at the offending object.

_Well shit._

The object was not a grenade at all, but a small pinecone.

"My God, the shit this war is already putting me through," he muttered, elevating his Thompson submachine gun and walking towards the fallen cone. Upon arrival, he picked it up off the forest floor and tossed it between his hands. Out of sheer curiosity, he gazed up into the tree above to see the source from which it detached.

The pinecone fell from his hands in shock.

There, about midway aloft in a tall, white pine, sat Private Donald Hoobler, deep in slumber. But the truly marvelous thing was that he had managed to position himself, perfectly balanced, on a single branch, so that his head lay against the trunk. Buck couldn't help but chuckle at the sight: who could sleep whilst a war went on around him?

Buck decided to amuse himself. Reaching down, he seized the fallen pinecone once more, drew his arm back, and took aim. Buck had been an all-star catcher while in presence at UCLA, and his arm threw with the force of that of a cannon. He released his wound-up limb, sending the pinecone sailing in a perfect horizontal line at the sleeping Donald Hoobler. It connected solidly with his forehead.

Hoobler's eyes flew open.

"Ah, shit!" he yelped. He immediately lost balance, tipping over and plummeting nearly twenty feet into a pocket of undergrowth. Upon his return to earth, he bellowed and scrambled to his feet, apparently uninjured.

"NOW WHO THE FUCK-,"

He paused as he noticed Buck. His stance calmed, but his eyes remained wild.

"Shit, sir, did you have to do that?"

Buck guffawed.

"Unfortunately, Hoob, with you sleeping on the job like that. Now, what supplies have you got?"

Still quite irate, Hoobler muttered a reply.

"Well, I have my pack," he motioned with his head to an olive-colored satchel leaning against the tree. "And I have my rifle, though the fact remains that the damn thing is broken. Trigger's busted and the stock's broken off."

He exasperatedly jettisoned the useless M-1 into a bush.

The anger suddenly vanished from his face and was instead replaced by one of trepidation and of tiredness and of homesickness. The emotions of war.

"By the way, sir, do you have any idea of where we are?"

Buck's own cheerful demeanor collapsed under the ponderous question.

"Now that, Hoobler, is the question. At the present, I haven't a clue as to where we are. I, probably just like everyone else, figure we'd have to assault this assumedly Kraut castle as some point."

Hoobler's eyes became burdened.

"Jeezus, sir, that's gonna' cost us a lot of boys."

"Yea I know. Let's just get moving."

Hoobler nodded his head in assent, and they started forward, proceeding along the fringe of the forest towards the castle. Buck led, armed with his Thompson submachine gun, whilst Hoobler trailed behind, defenseless and quite concerned. In silence, they continued along until they came around a bend in the perimeter, where the tree line curved slightly outward, obstructing their view of what lay behind. Buck dropped into a crouch, and Hoobler followed suit.

"Hoob, take point," ordered Buck in a whisper. "Be prepared for Krauts on the other side."

Hoobler stood motionless for a moment, before nodding tentatively. Making a rapid sign of the Cross, he advanced forward, halting behind the foremost of the trees. He hesitantly peered out from behind the tree and into the unknown of beyond. He simply stared for a few seconds, and then swiftly revolved his head and motioned for Buck to come forward.

Upon the Lieutenant's arrival, Hoobler informed him of the situation.

"Three figures located at a small hut about one-hundred yards from here. I can't tell what side their shooting for."

Buck nodded; sweat began to leak from his pores.

"Well, you know what that means, Don. Get ready for action. Here's the plan: I'm going to crawl forward until I get close enough for the identifier. If their not friendly, you will know within seconds."

Hoobler, eyes now wide, responded not, but instead sat like a stone. Buck sighed, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, Don, you'll be alright if anything happens," he encouraged, voice warm and sincere. "Do you hear me? You'll be fine. You have good training. Paratrooper training. We're the best of the best."

Hoobler glanced at Buck and observed the air of sincerity in his blue eyes and his deep voice. At these words and earnestness, he took heart. But it was for naught, for the fear immediately resumed its position resting heavily upon his soul.

Buck inhaled sharply, signaling his readiness for the task.

"Wish me luck," he stated sarcastically. "No, wait: the hell with luck! I'm doing this without that fickle bastard."

The other soldier did not make a reply. Buck tapped Hoobler's helmet lightly with the end of his Thompson and lowered himself to the ground. Putting one arm indolently in front of the other, he began a fastidious and lazy crawl towards the trio of figures. It was akin to a snake, slowly creeping along the earth in search of prey.

As he drew near, he could hear talk, but it was too muffled to distinguish the language. He took a deep breath and steeled himself.

"Flash!" he called out.

The reply came surprisingly softly, a calm, firm 'Thunder', and Buck instantaneously recognized the owner of the voice.

Buck clambered to his feet, and vocalized a joyous cry.

"Lieutenant Winters!"

_..:0:.._

The Great Hall of Hogwarts was bathed in darkness and fear in the wake of the paratroopers, but its inhabitants had not yet discovered that this was in fact their identities. By House, they had arranged into precautionary, protective formations, with their respective Heads standing foremost, intermittingly calming them or shushing the rowdy ones. At the front of the Hall stood Professor McGonagall and Kingsley, along with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. They spoke rapidly and in soft tones, to avoid being overheard by the students and panic to break out at their words.

"But we must investigate whoever is outside! If it's in fact Voldemort's army, we are here defenseless like sitting ducks!"

"Hermione's right, Professor," agreed Harry. "We need to know what the situation is outside in order to effectively set up security. We need a scout."

The visage of Minerva McGonagall was tired and burdened as she into the eyes of the Chosen One. Such a brave boy, she thought, but it just may be his valiance that destroys him. Nevertheless, she had to make a decision. To potentially risk the life of a student or staff member, in order to "scout out" whatever was outside? Or to devise a more apt ploy, which would take planning and effort and could cost them valuable time?

Harry's insistent pleading drew her from her contemplation.

"Professor, you know this is the only option. We have no other means by which to find out what, or whom, is outside."

McGonagall felt her anger flare.

"Mr. Potter! Do not assume you can coerce me into any form of a decision! I know you have a good heart, but this may not be the best conclusion!"

"Minerva," interjected Kingsley, "Though it may be rather foolhardy, this is our only option as far as scouting."

McGonagall sighed heavily. She sat silently for several moments, and then spoke, strained and slightly trounced.

"Well, Mr. Potter, you may be right about this. But I cannot allow you, Miss Granger, or Mr. Weasley to venture out on this patrol! I cannot risk your lives."

"But Professor-,"

McGonagall held up her hand and shut her eyes in frustration. "No 'buts', Miss Granger. We shall find a volunteer amongst the Order."

She turned promptly towards the assembled student body and pressed her wand against her throat.

"Attention, members of the Order of the Phoenix: I must ask a grave favor of one among you. A scout is needed to discover what lies outside. I am not urging any individual; this is by no means forceful. Come of your own accord."

Surprisingly, a hand shot immediately into the air.

"I would like to volunteer, Professor," said the sweet, airy voice of Katie Bell.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: To begin this chapter, I would foremost like to thank **arandomcat **for the great honor of being my first reviewer! I will be making replies to reviews at the bottom of the chapters to come, as not to annoy my amazing readers. But because **arandomcat **was the very first to review, I'm making my reply here at the top. So, without further ado:**_

_Arandomcat_: _**Hella thanks for reviewing! You're comment brings up what I feared you guys might be thinking. I know it's really early into the story, but I promise there will be action in the next chapter and the chapters to follow. The two sides will finally meet! Oh shit! Kind of left you on a bit of a cliffy last chapter, so be prepared for this one. Thanks!**_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own anything of Harry Potter nor the Band of Brothers miniseries. This is purely fictional. I mean no disrespect to the legitimate members of Easy Company. I give them nothing but my utmost admiration._**

**_..:0:.._**

"_You'll never settle any of your score  
your grace is wasted in your face;  
your boldness stands alone among the wreck  
learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck.  
But it was not your fault but mine  
and it was your heart on the line  
I really fucked it up this time  
didn't I, my dear?"_

_-"Little Lion Man"- Mumford and Sons_

_..:0:.._

_She turned promptly towards the assembled student body and pressed her wand against her throat._

_"Attention, members of the Order and Dumbledore's Army: I must ask a grave favor of one amongst you. A scout is needed to discover what lies outside. I am not urging any individual; this is by no means forceful. Come of your own accord."_

_Surprisingly, a hand shot immediately into the air._

_"I would like to volunteer, Professor," said the sweet, airy voice of Katie Bell._

_..:0:.._

Utter shock reigned in the Hall. Katie Bell? The raven-haired, petite Gryffindor, who had graduated the previous year? The girl who had been cursed by the necklace? She must be one barmy moppet, or possibly just plain dull. Doubtlessly not the brightest bulb in the circuit.

No one spoke for several moments, as the seemingly ridiculous request sunk into their minds. Scared, unsure minds that wanted to be sure of the scout's capability and success.

Katie Bell's repeated demand broke the hush.

"I would like to volunteer, Professor."

Surprisingly, it was not McGonagall who responded first, but Harry. The former still floated amongst her thoughts bathed in incredulity.

"Of course, Katie," he assured, his emerald eyes speaking another message to the rest of the Hall's occupants. 'Let her have her chance to prove herself' they seemed to command. "But I must ask, are you sure you're capable of this?"

There it was: the question upon everyone's souls had been voiced. Capability. Adeptness. Efficacy. Did she possess these necessary traits?

Confident russet eyes bored directly into those of Harry.

"I'm sure."

Harry let a small smile grace his visage. Such a brave girl. But even the Chosen One had his doubts.

"Alright then, come up here so we can discuss the details."

Katie Bell was an amiable and kind-hearted girl, but a fighter? A steel-spirited warrior, callous when required to be? Nevertheless, she was an obvious choice. A lithe figure, inconspicuous dark hair, adroit movement. Altogether a physically apt scout.

Katie rose from her spot amid her House and traversed the Hall, whilst every eye followed her shape. The solitary walk of death. Every person in the room silently bereaved for her, for they presumed she would meet her grave.

Upon her arrival at the front of the Hall, she was greeted with silence from most of the gathered individuals. Hermione gave her a weak smile, whereas Ron simply nodded once. Kingsley was the first to speak.

"Greetings, Miss Bell. I'm afraid there isn't time for further pleasantries, so let us 'jump right into it'." The brawny, dark-skinned man's eyes held a comforting determination to them. "To begin, I must state that we are only aware of the fact that there are unknown intruders on the grounds of Hogwarts. We need you to effectively identify these trespassers without drawing their attention. Can you complete this task?"

Katie firmly set her sculpted jaw. Brown eyes flashed in cross certitude and little fists curled in eager frustration.

"Yes, Minister," she bit out. "I've already prepared myself for this. For contributing in this war. In this coming battle. I'm not going to stand by and be useless whilst the rest fight." Her russet orbs were hard as she gazed pointedly at both McGonagall and Kingsley. She was benevolent, of course, but quite stubborn.

McGonagall, obstinate to her very soul, raised her chin.

"Very well," she stated, quite irritated. "Then _hop to it, _Miss Bell."

"Erm, well then," Harry broke in. "Follow me, Katie."

No more talk was made. Katie, already quite aggravated, followed a wordless Harry as he led her out of the Hall. He led her through several winding passages while the torches that lined the walls cast eerie shadows of themselves. They walked together in silence for several minutes, before Harry spoke quietly.

"Katie, be careful out there."

His words took her by surprise. She turned her head and gazed at the Chosen One, pondering that encumbrance of a question.

"Yeah; I will, Harry. Thanks."

Not a minute passed before they arrived at a side entrance of the castle. The air was foreboding, and the danger of the circumstances was nearly tangible. A dark layer of clouds had pervaded the night sky, partially obscuring the moon. They stood noiseless for a few moments, lost in fears and thoughts.

"Harry?" inquired Katie, breaching the silence.

"Yes?"

"How do you do it?"

A perplexed reply followed. "Do what?"

"Act so valiantly without freezing up in the moment? I've always admired that about you. You never seem to put yourself first, it's always others." Her brown eyes peered in admiration into his jade ones.

The quiet recapitulated as Harry contemplated this.

"Well," he finally uttered, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't really know the answer to that myself." He shifted, stance slightly uncomfortable. "If you want a response, I guess that all I know is that no matter what, I always think of those I love when peril rears its bugger head." She giggled. "I always find the strength to do whatever I can to keep them out of harm's way."

He pushed his glasses up further on the bride of his nose and ran a lone hand through his messy, jet-black hair.

"I trust in you, Katie. Just have faith in yourself, and you'll be able to keep cool when the time comes."

She looked at the ground.

"I hope so, Harry; I hope so. Thanks for everything."

He nodded.

"Oh, before I forget" he said, reaching into a satchel he carried at his side. He withdrew seemingly nothing, though his hand was definitely conformed to a shape. "Take this."

He handed her the emptiness. She reached out and was astounded when her digits grasped a hold of something. A cloth. No, an invisible cloth.

"Your Invisibility Cloak?" she whispered disbelievingly, fondling the unseen material. "Why?"

"Because; I'll do anything to keep you safe."

She donned the cloak around her shoulders so that only her pretty countenance showed in the torchlight. Harry comfortingly clasped her shoulder, which subsequently appeared very humorous. She sincerely thanked him once more.

"Take care, Katie," bid the Boy Who Lived.

She nodded, and she watched as Harry's fleeting form grew smaller and smaller and finally disappeared as he exited the corridor.

His footsteps faded into stillness, and Katie turned and peered into the depths of the night.

It was at that moment that the urgency of the task struck her. If she failed, it would surely mean the demise of every person in the castle. She gulped as fear doubled its weight on her bones. All of her friends-annihilated. The beloved castle-obliterated. Meaningless slaughter. And it was her duty to prevent these acts from coming to fruition. Hers alone.

And then the ultimate finality of the ordeal resounded through her skull as she took that first quiet step onto the Hogwart's lawn.

_..:0:.._

_Preview of Chapter 6__:_

_"You hear something?" asked Guarnere to his assembled comrades._

_The quintet of soldiers looked about the empty lawn that led to the castle._

_"Nah, Bill. I think you've just gone off-,"_

_Sudde__nly, the indistinguishable figure of Katie Bell popped into their visions, about fifty yards away and dead center on the lawn._

_"Oh, shit! A Kraut sentry!" shouted Luz. "Someone-,"_

_A single shot rang out in the night._


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Thanks for reading. Oh yeah, make sure you have an extra pair of pants with you when you read this. You may need them afterwards. Ha-ha, just kidding. Much thanks to EmmyMK for reviewing! This chapter is dedicated to you, EmmyMK.**_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own anything of Harry Potter nor the Band of Brothers miniseries. This is purely fictional. I mean no disrespect to the legitimate members of Easy Company. I give them nothing but my utmost admiration._**

_..:0:.._

**"**_In what distant deeps or skies  
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?  
On what wings dare he aspire?  
What the hand dare seize the fire?_

_And what shoulder, & what art.  
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?  
And when thy heart began to beat,  
What dread hand? & what dread feet?"_

_-"The Tyger"- William Blake_

_..:0:.._

_(Katie Bell's Perspective)_

_It was at that moment that the urgency of the task struck her. If she failed, it would surely mean the demise of every person in the castle. She gulped as fear doubled its weight on her bones. All of her friends-annihilated. The beloved castle-obliterated. Meaningless slaughter. And it was her duty to prevent these acts from coming to fruition. Hers alone._

_And then the ultimate finality of the ordeal resounded through her skull as she took that first quiet step onto the Hogwart's lawn._

_..:0:.._

**"**So then, the broad takes one look at me and says 'Takes one to know one'!"

Hearty laughter perforated the night air. A five-some of soldiers, composed of Lieutenant Winters, Sergeant Guarnere, Private Luz and the recently added Lieutenant Compton and Private Hoobler, sat upon the dewy grass that surrounded Hagrid's hut, the shack which had seized a hold of Guarnere's parachute. It had been not but ten minutes since Buck and Hoobler had been re-united with three of their Easy Company brethren, and it was like the drop had never occurred; just friends hanging out, albeit in the middle of an unknown countryside in front of a mysterious castle.

"You know, Luz, you're the only fella' that I know that would let a broad walk all over ya'."

"I said it once and I'll say it again: 'Shut up, Guarnere.'"

More raucous peals of laughter were loosed from the gathered paratroopers, who were beginning to slowly ease the tension of the drop from their hearts. They had set up a make-shift camp-of-sorts, leg bags arranged in a pentagonal shape as seats, a small fire blazing in the center, and Hoobler's helmet positioned above said fire, cooking whatever they could scrounge up from their K-rations.

"Why do you guys have to use my helmet to cook the shit?" Hoobler griped.

"Two reasons," began Luz. "One: you're Hoobler, and two-,"

"Keep it down, boys," said Compton, who had his back turned to the men and was analyzing a map with Winters. "We don't need the Krauts to become aware of our location because of Luz's loudmouth wisecracks." His deep voice held a note of jest.

"Yeah, you can say that, sir, but I know you'll always have a soft spot for my humor."

"I'll admit that when I'm in a grave."

Genial chuckles were exchanged.

_..:0:.._

_Swish._

_Swish._

_Swish._

There are but a few emotions that a person under the gaze of Death feels. First, nervousness, in an extreme degree. Then there's fervent anticipation. And lastly, either a sense of un-fulfillment or completion. Some call it 'when your life flashes before you're eyes'. A replaying of one's years spent on Earth.

This was how Katie Bell felt.

_Swish._

The Invisibility Cloak that was wrapped tightly around her, concealing her completely, was producing a whooshing sound as she made a slow, languid waltz of a crouched walk across the lawn. Her path was clear: to get in as close a proximity as possible to a group of figures situated around Hagrid's hut. As far as she could tell, there were five of them seated around a campfire.

_So they are people. That's comforting. In a twisted sense._

Step by step and inch by inch she drew nearer and nearer to the outlines of people.

_Slow, Katie. Nice and easy._

She patted her side in tenseness, checking for her wand. A twinge of relief sprinkled over her as her hands felt the cold wood.

_Step. Swish._

_Step. Swish._

She was coming closer and closer. Only a little way left.

_Step…_

Suddenly, she felt the Cloak stiffen around her shoulders. It was hooked on something.

_What the bloody…?_

Katie made an effort to turn around to look at what had snagged the invisible veil:

And with a cruel _swish_, the Cloak fell from around her.

_..:0:.._

"Hey, you guys hear something?"

Guarnere posed the question to the quintet of soldiers.

They all turned from what they were respectively doing and peered out at the empty lawn that led to the castle.

"Nah, Bill, I think you've just gone off-,"

Suddenly and inexplicably, the unintelligible figure of Katie Bell popped into their visions. They instantaneously jumped to their feet.

"Oh shit! A Kraut sentry!" shouted Luz. "Someone-,"

A single shot rang out in the night.

_..:0:.._

Katie Bell's world slowed to a crawl as she felt a massive, devastating pain erupt in her shoulder. She watched as it was torn open by an unknown force, sending her blood flying into the air and cascading down her front. Her body subsequently went weak. Blurriness overtook her sight.

She stumbled once. Twice. And fell to the earth like a rag-doll.

_..:0:.._

A cold, silent second passed. The tension reached its zenith.

Then it was broken.

"Nice shot, Hoob!" cried Luz. "Didn't know you had it in you!"

"Yeah," added Guarnere. "Quick thinking, Hoobler. I like it."

The men each clapped Hoobler on the shoulder in turn, as if he was a hero, and ran to the prostrate body of the "Kraut".

Hoobler didn't go with the men. He turned, pleased with himself, and sat right back down. He looked appreciatively at the M-1 held in his clammy hands.

Barely another moment passed before a howl filled with disbelief and urgency reached his ears.

"Hoobler! This ain't a German; it's a girl!"

_..:0:.._

_Brief Preview of Chapter 7:_

_"MEDIC!"_

_The cry hit Eugene Roe's ears like a freight train._

_He took off in the direction of the shout as fast as his legs would carry him._

_..:0:.._

**_A/N: So there it is. Wow, that was a hard one to get out. Hope you guys enjoyed it! Now onto the reviews:_**

**_EmmyMk:_**_Thanks so much for reviewing! I hope you like this chapter, with all its tension-y goodness. You'll be in for an even better one next update. Thanks again!_


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